Saturday, June 25, 2011

Chronicle 7: When a Box Becomes a Blessing


Cape Town, South Africa 
While I cannot take credit for this Samaritan's act that I am about to describe to you, I can stand back and try my best to describe to you the actions of my teammates. Last weekend, our contact took us out to the waterfront of Cape Town to show us some of the beauty of this area. Blue, red, and white sailboats were docked on the pier, with their white masts glowing like lampposts in the sunset's light. It was dusk at the waterfront, and the crystal blue waters were slapping up against the dock as the last few stragglers were sailing in from sea.
The streets were full of people. Some were having dinner by the sea, some were swaying their heads to the tune of the Reggae band playing on the open-air stage, while some enjoying the luxury of a creamy ice cream cone. It seemed like it would be a calm, relaxing evening for the team.
After the sunset and we finished scoping out the shops, we made our way back to meet our contacts. They were sitting on a picnic table sipping some coffee as we approached, but we noticed a man sitting next to them, speaking to them as if he was in a hurry. We walked up to the table, and my eyes fell on this jittery man. He had salt and pepper hair, disheveled and unkempt, with a scraggly beard to match. His clothes were ratty and hung over thin framed, wiry body.
As soon as we sat down, he began to mumble on about how he had been praying to God that He would take his life for the past few days. He had come to the waterfront that night to kill himself. His shaky and nervous voice cracked as he spilled out about his past life and what had brought him to this low point. He told us about how he was homosexual, and had been in an abusive relationship with a man named Grant. He said he was horribly raped and emotionally abused by him again and again, until he gave his life over to God and walked out on this relationship. Because they broke up, he had nowhere to go and was forced out on the streets.
His name was Lennon, and since he became homeless, he had contracted body lice, making him unable to work a decent job or even stay at a hospital. By the grace of God, he had found a job cleaning carpets, but he couldn't start until he cleaned himself up, and got rid of the body lice. All he had were the clothes on his back, lice infested, and a dismal attitude of hopeless. Someone had placed us in the right spot to help Lennon that night.
As the men on my team sat down with Lennon and dealt with the heart of the matter, my logistical mind began to work as to how we could tangibly help this man. All he needed was a shower, shave, a fresh change of clothes, and medicated shampoo. It was these things alone that had become the last straw to letting Satan whisper the lie of worthlessness in his ears, thus pushing him to suicide.
After we talked with him for a while, we came up with a plan of action. Our contact specifically asked us not to give him money directly, because drugs are a huge problem in that area, and a lot of people come to beg for drug money. But we knew God had placed us there to help Lennon, and the men on my team felt a special tug to bless him that night. So we prayed. We prayed for wisdom and discernment, and that the Lord with give us the best way to help him.
Since all of the stores around us were closed, we vowed to meet him the following morning, at the same location, with clothes, medicated shampoo, and a way to get him to a hostel to shower and prepare himself for his first day of work.
After church the next day, we piled into the back of our contact's pick up and headed to the waterfront to meet Lennon. Our guys met him first, and took him out to KFC for some lunch. Lennon began telling them about the cold night out on the streets, but how the Lord had provided for him with a cardboard box to sleep in. He said that he was nervously walking around looking for a place to lay his head, and he came across a long, cardboard box, that kind of had a coffin shape. The statement that finding a cardboard box to sleep in was a blessing truly humbled all of us listening to the story.
Humbled was the word for that night. Realizing the need to truly be thankful for the small things, because no matter how we look at our circumstances, God has abundantly blessed us with a house over our heads and food in our bellies. A little dose of perception changed my view of things that night, by shifting my thoughts from entitlement to knowing that all things are incredible blessings from the Lord.

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